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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27079879">escape</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychedelicbubblegum/pseuds/psychedelicbubblegum'>psychedelicbubblegum</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU where Alice ran away on her own terms to Gotham, Alice deserved better, Alice in Wonderland References, Alice will get a happy ending no matter what, Angst, Creepy Jervis Tetch, Fuck Jervis, Hopeful Ending, I will always headcanon Alice's happiness, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mentioned Jervis Tetch, Other, Paranoia, Past Sexual Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Running Away, Sibling Incest, Starting Over</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 01:48:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,408</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27079879</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychedelicbubblegum/pseuds/psychedelicbubblegum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Alice sees an opportunity to escape and she takes it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>escape</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The backdrop of impartial rain provided Alice little comfort. A dour patter - meaningless slaps of water upon the faux shield such vast, relentless metal could be pushed and prodded into mimicking - that had carded its limp hands through the hazel root tangles of her hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dampness had seeped into Alice’s bones; winding through heavy threads, making new homes within her weary veins. The fear - of times listless pace; dragging heavy heels in petulant torment - crackled inconsistently in the pit of her stomach, alighting ineffective shifting in her seat; vain attempts to reignite the lull of patience.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her luggage - a rucksack, small case, pockets crammed with tiny keepsakes - helped amplify the illusion: a simple trip away, quick and innocuous. Insignificant. Devoid of repercussion. Oh - how sweet a facade could be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alice had a forty minute head start (and even that was being generous). </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even sat dutifully on the bus - not yet a true ghost; dressed unassumingly in heavy armor - surrogate layers - she received silent glances of desire. The tactless linger of prying eyes, clinical in the hold upon her plaid skin and tender mauling of her teeth abused lips; the mauve indents of sleep deprivation dented under her eyes. But still, smiles prevailed. Her own were much less free flowing, small and restrained; but politeness reigned over caution.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The distractions were ultimately ineffective on imagination though. It was bitterly apt, Alice felt she could acknowledge. The mind - even her own - belonged to Jervis.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her stomach clenched and her eyes stung with a violent cloud of emotion. She dreaded to picture the scene at...could it now be called home? Had it </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>been?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’d almost been as if he’d sensed her escape was impending. The lull of sanity had become increasingly fleeting as her brother grew older; but Jervis’ mood had lightened in the past few weeks. Work seemed to feed into the love he craved from her, diluting his affections. His incessant touches were impossible to truly block out though...they would never stop; the distractions never held... Love (Jervis’ love) was eternal, which was why escape was the only path left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rabbit hole - mysterious and vast - was to be leapt down before she ever resumed a seat at the tea party.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gooseflesh rippled freely as the dutiful gravity of Jervis’ anger thundered on the horizon of Alice’s psyche. Usually she was delegated to the role of uncomfortable spectator, pushed back to a shameful sideline as chaos and distortion ravaged the subject of his wraths mind; but her choice would undoubtedly hurl the discord of his fury toward his alleged true love.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Part of Alice - the traitorous paranoia laced into her conscience; never quite soothed - expected Jervis (eyes wild; fury animating his form; sing-song voice warped into an outraged cry) to morph from the distorted rhythm of the crowd. He was many things, terrible things, her clandestined nightmare; but mad as he was - amoral and insidious - ‘fool’ had never been a true adjective for Jervis. The love - his desire for her; ‘love’ for her; his prized possession, his fair, fragile sister, dearest, darling Alice (‘sickly and anxious’ her last doctor had prescribed) - clung to her pasty flesh, a shameful mark; good for tracking though. He’d never have granted her freedom, not even in an act of brotherly mercy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then again, brother had seemingly never been the role Jervis truly wanted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Would she run forever?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unworldly, pasty Alice, searching for her white rabbit guide; torch of hope lighting the path (big city anonymity) away from the embrace that plagued her every sense.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gotham’s streets could be cut from brimstone - sulfuric and unforgiving - and Alice would skip them as carefree as if they were friendly yellow brick. Anything would be welcomed prior to relenting to the intrusions of a hypnotist; both her mind and body...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In spite of her flit - absconding from a once cherished place - Jervis wouldn’t hate her, Alice could be certain. He’d still punish her - how, she refused to morbidly ponder - but his fixation had warped past obvious malice. All Jervis claimed to feel for her...was love.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the horizons of delusion - barely left untouched; even as her nails scrabbled at the weak threads of her jeans (nearly as worn as the wells of Alice’s lethargic tear ducts) - she couldn’t ever quite recognise love’s malformed shape. Memories - mom’s lulling honeydew perfume; dad’s unashamed, raucous laugh - shifted in inconsistent flickers; waning and flitting through her subconscious as they pleased. Love clung earnestly to their imprint; such a far cry from the suffocating tendrils Jervis’ emotions had warped themselves into.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rain water had seeped into every pore of Alice’s skin as she’d waited for the bus.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Right on the edge, eyes scanning the road tirelessly. She’d been prepared to step out if Jervis had shown up, run blindly - into the buzzing swarth of traffic, riggling along the road like frustrated hornets; across the grassy bank adjacent to the bus station, uncaring of slathering herself in mud; deeper into the winding depths of town, careless of the human dangers - anywhere. Just to get away from him. Her mad, doggedly loyal older brother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once upon a time, all those moons and stars ago, when Alice’s ankles were thinner and her skin less peaky (weighed down by shame and fear); he’d promised he’d always be by her side no matter what. Young Alice - innocent Alice, carefree and earnest Alice; not yet scarred by the loss of her parents and the deprivation of Aunt Elysa - had been delighted by such a promise. Her brother had been her shining knight then, not her jailer. Captor. Tormenter. The ghastly monster whose touch would shrink her back into the depths of her mind, hurtle off to a place her body could not follow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d shuddered as the rivlets - tiny and soft, gentle as how a lover’s touch should have been; all those arias and sonnets had informed her - had settled upon her breasts; slithered unevenly across the pale expanse of her thighs. No matter how many times she commenced the Ritual, cleanliness had absconded. Ever since the first night - two weeks after mom and dad’s sudden perishing; more of an inconvenience than a true guest at Aunt Elysa’s house, head pressed into Jervis’ bony shoulder, questions leaping from her lips without apprehension - when...everything had changed; and the new structure had been implemented.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bathroom had become her one place of safety. It’s bolt the only consistent working fixture in the house, a warrior even Jervis couldn’t face down. She always locked the bathroom door. Even when cleaning her teeth or brushing her hair. Anything to be free of the corrosive touch she needed to escape from. A mighty collection of sponges had scoured her tender complexion raw. Alice could scrub and scrub until cuts blossomed, scabs were peeled open, blood danced beneath the calm surface; dirt and grease ripped off, jerked harshly and without mercy, but the ache could never be quelled or satisfied. The disgust had made a bed within her ribcage, settled comfortably upon her heart and pulled back the covers; showing no true desire of rehoming, or even respite.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was the day she’d spent solely in the bath. Upon emerging - skin pruned; wrinkled hideously around the edges; hair contorted into water clogged ringlets; a shiver clinging onto her skin - Jervis had been waiting for her. The uncanny expression of pity had been like a punch to the gut. At least he hadn’t undone her hard work that night...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Winding a stray sprig of hair - it’s escape from the loose confides of her plait wasn’t too impressive, but still somewhat commendable - round one of her short, slim fingers; the smudged imagery of the outside world, away from the bracket of the coach, failed to help Alice’s mind to wander entirely, but succeed in coaxing her to stray down different paths.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her fresh start wasn’t going to be easy - a life dominated by restriction hadn’t left her painfully naive (in spite of common assumption). An upbringing dominated by tutors, retaining a sense of prim and properness, endless hours spend crocheting and perfecting poise (Alice had always adored the sincere delight in mom’s voice upon the recognition she’d succeeded, accompanied by a small squeeze of the shoulder and one of those small, glittering smiles); hadn’t rendered her logic to become fantastical. Whatever job she got, it wouldn’t be glamorous or impressive; but as long as it provided just enough, Alice wouldn’t complain.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I loved Alice Tetch in the brief time we saw her on Gotham and fuck, did she deserve better than what she got! If you ask me, she should've been the one to defeat her awful brother and fridging her just to set up the Jervis v. Gordon conflict is something I'm still not over. So here, I wanted to show her managing to get away on her own terms, and no matter what else happens, she isn't dying in my reality, no way! Let Alice find peace and happiness that isn't just death.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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